Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(139)

My heart beats so fast as I take my dear papa’s arm. I’ve dreamed of this moment all of my life, but now it is here. In my head, I hear angels sing as I begin this final walk as a maiden down the aisle strewn in rose petals.

I want to be a beautiful bride. I know the dress is a dilly, the white silk charmeuse, the lace inserts on the bodice and sleeves, the dozens and dozens of wax pearls. I trust the slender silhouette, one accented by the braided satin belt, is flattering, as Dina, Mama, and the dressmaker all assured me.

My hair is arranged high under my veil with curls falling down the right side nearly to my shoulder. It took so long to perfect it, but I so wish to be fashionable for my dear and darling Edward.

There are butterflies in my stomach as I see him, so very handsome, waiting for me. I see tears in Mama’s eyes, but know they are happy ones. Then I see nothing but Edward.

Papa lifts my veil. He kisses my cheek and says, very softly, “I love you, Lissy.” Then he places my hand in Edward’s.

I know I am a beautiful bride by the way Edward’s eyes gaze into mine. The dream I’ve dreamed so long comes true in the sweet little village church.

I can hardly see through the blur of my own happy tears as we walk back down the aisle, husband and wife. And oh, everyone is so frightfully cheery as they toss rice.

We ride to the manor in Papa’s Model T with villagers applauding us on the way. As we turn up Manor Road, Edward gathers me into a kiss, and the butterflies are back as I think of the wedding night to come.

Mama had the private, frank talk with me. Of course, I knew what the marital bed entails. I am eighteen, after all. But I am somewhat anxious and hope Edward will be gentle and patient as he makes me truly his wife.

But now is for celebration! Though it is quite warm, I can’t mind. The manor is decked with flowers, the halls ring with laughter. The food is plentiful. The champagne sparkles.

Edward and I, our parents, the wedding party, all sit for formal pictures. I find it hard to sit so still when my heart is giddy and my feet want to dance and dance and dance. But this is duty, and, as Mama says, I will treasure the pictures in years to come.

The orchestra plays in the ballroom. Waltzes, of course, but we have the lively with fox-trots and the turkey trot, the grizzly bear.

It’s all so gay and bright, and I find myself wishing the day would never end.

I feel a quick prick of pain near my heart, as if a needle stabbed into me. The anxiety again, I think, and press a hand there as if to calm it. But another stab, and another, and I hear myself shriek as something crawls over my skin.

The heat is suddenly unbearable as if I’m on fire. My stomach cramps, my chest is tight. And oh, they are crawling, crawling, pricking, stabbing all over me!

I think I faint, for it seems I am outside of myself, watching my body on the ballroom floor, shaking, convulsing.

I see her, a woman in black, a hard smile on her face, walk toward me. She stands over me, somehow alone as my Edward holds me.

No one sees her, no one, as she looks down at me.

She says, “It will be over soon.” Then she takes my wedding ring from my finger, and what is in me and outside me fades away.



* * *



In the morning, Cleo rolled over when Sonya got up.

“I nearly forgot you sleep like the dead. Though maybe that’s the wrong term to use in this house.” Cleo snuggled into the pillow. “I didn’t forget you get up way too early. I’m going for another hour.”

“Help yourself. Maybe you slept through it if I got up, but I don’t remember anything if I did.”

“Because you didn’t. I heard the three a.m. alarm; you didn’t.”

“Maybe the business with the mirror’s finished. I don’t know how to feel about that. Oh, and with all the uproar, I forgot. Trey’s coming by around seven to take us to dinner.”

Cleo flopped over again. “I have to get a man so I can stop horning in on your dates.”

“You’re not horning in. And we plan to finish up our date without you.”

“In that case, I’d love to go out to dinner. Good night.”

Sonya went downstairs, got coffee, let the dog out.

What was it, she thought, about daylight that made everything that went bump—and bang—in the night seem distant?

Foolish really, because plenty of things bumped and banged in the manor in the clear light of day. But for the moment, she’d take that foolish distance.

She got back to work on the florist job, and made personal notes for what she now termed The Event on where she’d want flower arrangements.

She looked up as Cleo rapped knuckles on the doorjamb.

“I’m off to my photo shoot.”

“God, you look gorgeous.”

“I do, don’t I?” She’d tossed an open white shirt over a boldly red sports bra and yoga pants with a muddled black-and-red pattern. She’d worked her hair into a thick braid and added the sparkle of studs to her ears.

“I really should go.”

“You really should not. I’ll see you later.”

“Have Corrine send me shots as you go.” Popping up, Sonya rushed to the head of the stairs as Cleo walked down. “Don’t look directly at the camera. You’re doing yoga poses, but you’re not posing.”

Cleo just waved a hand in the air as she turned to get a jacket out of the closet. And kept going.